


At the Death of Every Darkness (There’s a Morning)

by rq_maybe



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, I don't even know what specific universe BUT it is an AU, Mayhaps, This is an AU, from a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rq_maybe/pseuds/rq_maybe
Summary: Based off a Tumblr post, which is, essentially: A villain gets injured, loses their memory, and gets taken in by the heroes. This, but Charlynch.Charlotte Flair had known nothing but battle. But as she sat up in a strange bed, in a strange room, she remembered none of this. She could not even remember her name.





	At the Death of Every Darkness (There’s a Morning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/gifts).



> I tried to do something different with this one, style-wise.
> 
> The title is from "Grace," by Rag'N'Bone Man.

**I**

For Becky, it happened in the slowest of motions.

General Stratus had called it their last resort. Sasha and Bayley, two of her best friends, had explained with pride that they developed the weapon in their laboratory, and that it was guaranteed to take out an entire battalion in one go. As far as Becky understood, it was an extremely powerful explosive that Bayley and Sasha had packed into a package the size of a pebble.

“Just, you know, throw it at ‘em,” Bayley had said. “It’ll explode upon impact.”

In her ear, she can hear General Stratus urging her. “Throw the goddamn pebble, Becky. We need to keep them away from the town proper.”

She threw the pebble. Bayley and Sasha did not lie: the explosive was powerful as hell. She could see scores of warriors thrown back by the blast. One of them was the woman who had been perhaps the biggest thorn on their sides for the past couple of years now, the towering blonde warrior known all over the land as the Queen.

Becky saw as the woman was thrown from her horse, and hit her head on one of the many boulders that dotted the landscape. She winced: even the woman’s helmet would not have shielded her from the impact. She would have wanted to check if the Queen was dead, but her General’s voice was still in her ear.

“It’s done, General,” Becky said. “It’s done.”

**II**

She was still there, Becky saw. The rest of the enemy had dispersed, but somehow no one thought to collect the tall blonde warrior. Perhaps, her underlings were as terrified of her as they were? No matter. Becky was not one to leave a body behind, and in any case she needed to check if the Queen was dead or not.

She was not dead. The Queen -- Becky knew her name was Charlotte, but they never used that name -- was still breathing, though her pulse was faint. There was a streak of blood dripping from her forehead as well. Becky closed her eyes, weighing her options. She gripped the knife strapped to her thigh.

Becky gritted her teeth, then dragged the much taller woman up and over her shoulder. As gently as she could, she put the Queen over her horse, then took off for the town.

**III**

“You are the biggest idiot I have ever seen, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Thank you, Sasha.”

“You brought the Queen here! Here! Forget being an idiot, you’re fucking crazy. And now you want me to heal her? No fucking way, Becky, take her somewhere else.”

“Sasha, you need to help her. She can be leverage.”

“Leverage? Her warriors left her behind. She can’t be worth that much to them, Becky, come on.”

“To them, not much. To Old Man Flair, she’s still worth a lot.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m not entirely stupid, Sasha.”

“Shut up. Just help me get her stupid helmet off. Why the fuck does it have to be shaped like a crown? This bitch. I swear to God Becky if she tries to kill me, I will kill you. And if I can’t kill you, then Bayley will kill you. I swear in the name of all the gods --”

**IV**

Charlotte Flair had known nothing but battle. One of her trainers, whom she only knows as Uncle Arn, had told her that her father had taken her from her mother’s bosom just a few hours after she was born, and handed her over to their master swordsman. Her earliest memory was shooting an arrow at a target, and being punished for missing the bullseye. She guessed that she may have been four years old at the time.

Charlotte would not miss many targets. She mastered archery, just as she mastered sword-fighting, hand-to-hand combat, espionage, and war tactics. She was brutal, but efficient. There were no wasted motions with Charlotte. And she did everything with a regal air about her; she exuded class even as she beheaded a traitor.

For this, her warriors addressed her as their Queen. It was just as well: they followed her every order.

Charlotte Flair had known nothing but battle. But as she sat up in a strange bed, in a strange room, she remembered none of this. She could not even remember her name.

**V**

“You’re telling me that the most fearsome warrior to ever walk this land has amnesia?” General Stratus asked skeptically.

“Yes, General,” Sasha said. “I can’t believe it either, but everything checks out. She can’t remember her name, can’t remember where she’s from, can’t remember her father.”

“Do you have scientific proof?” asked Lieutenant-General Lita, the second-highest ranking officer in their town.

Wordlessly, Sasha handed over her scans of Charlotte Flair’s brain, knowing that Lita would have no trouble understanding it: the woman was a trained scientist aside from being possibly the most terrifying fighter they had. And the scans were clear: Flair had her brain all jumbled up, much to Sasha’s dismay.

“What use is she to us?” Colonel Mickie James asked. “We’ve yet to hear from Old Man Flair. And don’t forget -- this is still Charlotte Flair. I wouldn’t put it past her to fake a brain injury to get inside information about us.”

“What, you want us to kill her?” General Stratus asked.

“I say we let her stay,” Lita said, looking pointedly at James. “She’s all alone, she’s injured, and if she tries anything, we’ll kill her. Lynch,” -- and at this, the official turned to Becky, who was trying valiantly to blend into the shadows -- “You brought her in here. She’s your problem now.”

**VI**

Sometimes Becky wonders why she chose this life, then remembers that the choice was made for her as a child.

Her parents were poor, there was no way for them to take care of her, so they sent her to the army to begin her education as a warrior. Turns out, she was exceptional at fighting. Sword-fighting was her specialty, but she also showed aptitude in archery and close-quarters combat. But her biggest talent was her innate survival instinct. She could be dropped into any situation, and Becky would find a way to survive, and thrive.

She wondered how she was going to survive in this situation. The Queen -- Charlotte, she reminded herself -- was standing uncertainly in the living room of her one-bedroom apartment, looking spectacularly out of place.

“Uh,” Becky said. “Make yourself at home, I guess?”

The tall blonde bit her lip, then nodded. “Thank you,” Charlotte said, her voice soft. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being an inconvenience to you.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Becky assured her. “Um. So I only have one bed, and it’s a single. You’ll be okay on the couch though, I’ve fallen asleep there many times, and it’s comfortable.” She darted to her bedroom, then came out with an armload of bedding and a pillow.

Charlotte nodded again. It was obvious to Becky that the woman was terrified, which was a strange thing to see considering she had personally witnessed Charlotte Flair lay waste to an entire battalion of their warriors before. Come to think of it, Charlotte had probably come close to killing Becky at some point.

She shook her head, freeing herself of the thought. “So, good night, then?” Becky asked, knowing full well that she will sleep with one eye open tonight, and every night that the Queen will stay with her.

**VII**

A week later, they made a fascinating discovery.

“When you say she cooked for you, did she like… cook, or like she boiled water and put noodles in it?” Bayley asked.

“She cooked,” Becky answered, unveiling what appeared to be salmon, with buttered baby carrots and potatoes. “I tasted it already, and it’s not poisoned.” She had been stunned -- not just surprised, but stunned -- when Charlotte had shyly offered her the meal just before she left for that day’s training. Becky didn’t even know that she had _salmon_ in her fridge.

“I didn’t know the Queen could cook,” Sasha said, gamely taking a bite of the salmon now that she knew it wasn’t poisoned.

“I don’t think the Queen cooks,” Becky said, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot. “But apparently Charlotte does.”

Sasha leveled a gaze at Becky. “Well maybe _Charlotte_ would like it if we invited her to our next night out, what do you think?”

**VIII**

“I’m really glad you joined us, Charlotte,” said Bayley, as they found a table at one of the clubs they frequented during their days off. Bayley and Sasha had spent the entire day locked up in their laboratory, working on something, and they desperately needed to unwind.

“Becky said I was invited,” Charlotte said shyly. “I … I thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of her house for a while, too.”

Becky grinned. “Well, it won’t do you any good to stay locked up there, just watching TV all day, lass,” she said. She was sporting a spectacular shiner below her right eye, a consequence of her training earlier that day. Charlotte had gasped upon seeing it, and fussed over her immediately. Becky found her concern adorable.

Even now, she could see that Charlotte was still worried. “Becky, are you sure you don’t need to rest?” she asked, gesturing at the wound.

Sasha scoffed. “Please, the Lass Kicker over here has taken far worse hits,” she said, then abruptly closed her mouth. “I mean. Uh, what I meant was -”

Becky’s head was in her hands. Bayley was also face-palming. Charlotte shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted to make sure that she wasn’t in pain.”

**IX**

A week after their night out, Becky comes home to find Charlotte sitting silently at her couch. The television is off; a book lies unread on the table. She glances at the dining table, and finds that there is a steaming platter of pasta ready. “Hello, Charlotte,” she said.

It took a second before the woman turned to look at her. “Oh hi, Becky,” she said, smiling. “I was just resting.”

“How was your day?” Becky asked. “I know you said you wanted to go to the library. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Charlotte glanced down at the book on Becky’s table - Shogun, by James Clavell. “I did,” Charlotte said, “I did find what I was looking for.”

“Well, that’s good,” Becky said. “I’m going to freshen up, then we can eat?”

The other woman nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “You do that.”

**X**

Two months. Two months since Becky picked Charlotte from the battlefield and dragged her to Sasha and Bayley’s lab, since she begged her friends to heal the enemy, since her commanders told her to take care of the amnesiac Queen. So far, there were no signs that Charlotte was regaining her memory.

They had a routine. She would wake up before Charlotte, take a quick bath, and by the time she entered the kitchen, Charlotte would already be preparing breakfast. While she was at training, Charlotte occupied her time by exploring the town; the library was by far her favorite place. Becky’s coffee table was soon piled high with books.

One of them caught her eye one night: The Art of War. She had fidgeted. There was no reason for Charlotte to be reading it, but she didn’t want to appear suspicious. Charlotte -- and she was, indeed, Charlotte, and not the Queen -- had done nothing even remotely close to being suspect throughout her entire time with them.

Still, there was no harm in paying closer attention to her, Becky thought. Especially not when she was cooking in Becky’s kitchen, wearing a tight top that showed off her arms, and a pair of Becky’s shorts. Charlotte was humming something, a song that Becky didn’t recognize. She turned to Becky, and smiled. Becky could feel her heart hammering at the sight.

“You ready to eat?”

**XI**

General Stratus was pacing. “Trish, you’re giving me a headache.” It was Lt. Gen. Lita who said that; only she could ever call the general by her first name.

“It’s too quiet,” the general responded. “We’ve had the Queen here for what, four months now?” Becky nodded. “She’s made friends with people at the town. Hell, she’s on first-name basis with our librarian. I don’t even know what our librarian’s name is.”

“It’s Dana,” Becky supplied helpfully. “Dana Brooke.”

The general glared at her. Becky shrugged. “The point is,” General Stratus said. “How sure are we that she’s still amnesiac? She might have regained her memory already, and she’s just playing us for fools now. Who’s to say she hasn’t touched base with her army?”

“There’s an easy solution, Trish,” said Lita. “Lynch, tell your friends to scan Flair’s brain again. That should give us the answers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Becky answers immediately, then adds: “May I be excused?”

“You’re dismissed,” General Stratus said tiredly. “This entire situation is giving _me_ a headache.”

**XII**

They never got the chance to scan Charlotte’s brain. The very next day, the Flair army descended upon them. Old Man Flair was leading the attack.

Becky was in a panic. “You need to -- Charlotte, come on! You need to get to the underground, with the rest of the civilians,” she said. “Leave the stupid books please, I will buy you all the books you want when this is done, please --”

“Becky,” Charlotte said, her voice soft, uncertain. “Can’t I just stay here?”

"Here" was Becky’s home, which by extension had been Charlotte’s home for the past four months. Becky had fortified her house, and in any case she lived in an area that was unlikely to be attacked. Still, it was not safe for Charlotte to stay there.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Becky said. “But you need to go down to the bunkers. Please, lass, you’re not safe here.” _Especially when they’re obviously here for you-- wait._

“You know what, on second thought,” Becky suddenly said. “You should stay here.” The last place that Old Man Flair and his cronies would look would be in the house of a random soldier. They probably believed that Charlotte was being held captive somewhere in the grand palace.

She hands Charlotte a knife, which the other woman takes gingerly. “Here. In case anyone comes, just.. Stab ‘em with the pointy end, okay?” Becky says. She grabs another knife and straps it to her thigh, then seizes her bow and quiver. Her sword is already at the battlefield, to be handed to her by her fellow soldiers.

She is ready to leave, when Charlotte’s voice stops her in her tracks. “Becky,” the tall blonde says, and Becky turns to look at Charlotte, who steps closer to her, until there was but an inch between them.

Becky could hear the shouting outside; she could hear explosions. But she could also hear Charlotte’s breathing; if she listened more deeply, she might even hear Charlotte’s heartbeat.

The tall blonde dipped her head, and brushed the softest of kisses upon Becky’s lips. “Please,” Charlotte whispered. “Be safe.”

**XIII**

_This is not the day I die,_ Becky thought grimly to herself as she plowed forward, plunging her sword into the guts of any Flair soldier unfortunate enough to cross her path. Her mission had been clear: get Old Man Flair. It was not an order to kill, necessarily, but this was the first time in years that the veteran warrior had left their territory. This was their chance.

That he was Charlotte’s father nagged at Becky, but orders were orders.

But how can she follow those orders, when it was clear they were overwhelmed? The Flair army must have been gathering forces over the past couple of months. For every soldier that Becky slayed, two more appeared to sprout up.

 _Like mushrooms!_ her unhelpful brain thought.

She slammed her shoulder against an oncoming warrior, then swung her sword; another enemy fell at her feet.

She could see Old Man Flair in the distance, atop a golden horse. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward in determination.

Then, heat. A sudden pain in her side. She gasped, and fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach. Her armor was pierced; dimly, Becky wondered what kind of weapon had been used, if it could get past the armor that Bayley and Sasha had crafted specially for her? She looked up at her attacker, and recognized the woman as the one they called Natalya. She was clutching a wicked-looking claymore. Becky waited for death.

**XIV**

Death did not come for Becky Lynch, because as Natalya moved to swing her weapon, she was hit from behind by a concussive force. Natalya fell like a ton of bricks to the ground, and Becky gasped again, this time from surprise. She looked up again, this time, at her savior.

“Charlotte,” she murmured. “Charlotte.”

“Hi,” the other woman said, smiling faintly. “I took your other set of armor. And also, the sword you kept at that secret hiding place beneath the floorboards. Terrible place to hide your weapons, by the way.”

Becky was aware that she was staring, open-mouthed, at the golden warrior goddess who had appeared out of nowhere to save her life.

“You’re wounded,” Charlotte said unnecessarily. “Don’t move from there.”

It wasn’t as though she could move, anyway: Becky was frozen from pain, surprise, and possibly another emotion that she did not want to think too deeply about right now, not in the middle of battle. She watched in amazement as Charlotte went on the offensive, easily dispatching of on-rushing soldiers. They had yet to realize that they were attacking their own Queen.

It was at that moment that Becky realized exactly why they called Charlotte by that royal name. Even in the midst of war, she was regal, she was poised. She was _beautiful,_ even as she was taking the head off of an incoming opponent.

Becky could see the exact moment that their enemies realized who they were fighting. At first, it was just one soldier, who dropped her sword and then fell to her knees. Then, another. And another. Soon, the entire army was bowing to Charlotte, who stared at them in contempt.

Charlotte sheathed her sword -- _My sword_ , Becky thought -- then returned to her. “Can you walk?” the blonde woman asked.

“I think so,” Becky answered, gritting her teeth as she got to her feet. Almost immediately, her knees buckled again.

“Yeah, you can’t walk,” Charlotte said, again unnecessarily. She looked back at what was once her army, at the soldiers who were looking back at her in shock. She looked back at her father, who was staring at her in utter disappointment. She bared her teeth; Becky did not know if she meant to smile, or to snarl at the man who turned Charlotte into a living weapon since birth.

When she turned back to Becky, Charlotte was smiling, for real this time. With almost comical ease, she scooped Becky up in her arms, and turned to walk back to the town.

**XV**

“W-when did you -- I mean obviously you know who you are, but --”

“When did I regain my memory?”

“Yes.”

“The day you came home with that shiner, it began to come back to me. There was just something… familiar… about it. From there, the memories just came in waves.”

“And you didn’t -- you didn’t kill me.”

“Why would I kill you? You saved my life. You _gave me my life.”_

“I… you cooked for me. For months!”

“Best four months of my life.”

"Oh my god, I made you stay on my couch - I’m sorry, Queen - I --”

“Please, Becky --”

“I mean, I just… There was no space, and --”

“Please don’t call me that.”

"... Queen?”

“There’s no reason for you to call me Queen. You know that’s not my name. You know that’s not who I am.”

“Alright… Charlotte.”

"..."

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, Becky?”

“Let’s go home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The full Tumblr post is as follows: "Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the heroes finding them and taking them with them and taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesn’t want to say anything because the heroes are being so nice to them and nobody has been that nice to them in so long and they don’t want it to end and they’re maybe getting fond of the heroes but don’t tell anyone shhh. But eventually something happens and the heroes are in trouble and they’re trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they’re an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themself and they’ve grown to like them and don’t want them to get hurt but the villain just pushes past them toward whatever is trying to hurt the heroes and just fuckin goes guns blazing and destroys them."
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at rebeccaquinoa.


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